caffienekitty (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
caffienekitty) wrote2009-02-18 12:51 am
caffienekitty) wrote2009-02-18 12:51 am
Sigh.
Another odd Gen Battle post. (Go on, you know you wanna. It's addictive, and refreshing. Like carbonated crack.)
For (half) the prompt:
Crossover (Lord of the Rings/Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead) Merry, Pippin, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern - fallen into the wrong story
(I'm kind of calling it "Tallfellows")
"For the last time, I'm not bloody 'Rosie', you are."
"What makes you so sure?"
The blond man sat in the smial with his knees up around his ears. "...I'm not. I don't feel like a 'Rosie'." He crossed his arms, knocking over a pot of tea.
"Ooo!" said the dark-haired man, grabbing at the fallen teapot and bonking his forehead on a support beam. "Augh!"
"This is ridiculous!" said the agitated blond man. "How do we ever even live here?"
The dark-haired man rubbed his forehead with a tea-soaked rag. "...amicably?"
"That's it." The blond man extricated himself from behind the tiny table. "I'm getting out."
"Where are you going?"
"Out!" He dodged the hanging candelabra. "Anywhere!"
"We can't go far; we're to go to a party. We were called."
"I know we were called. I was there when he called our names."
The dark-haired man squinted. "No you weren't!"
"Well, I was trying to be there. I got wedged behind the credenza trying to get to the door. I heard him call our names though. 'Rosie and Gilden'"
"That wasn't all."
"What else did he say?" asked the blond, stopping outside the round door.
The dark-haired man exited, and stopped, staring into the sunny distance. "I remember."
"What do you remember?"
"I remember the knocking. At the door. A tiny knocking, like a child, and a voice like a child's calling our names."
The blond stretched to his full height and glanced around the low hills and smials of the Shire, feeling entirely at home and not knowing quite why. Clusters of people under three feet tall waved at them; he waved back, smiling tightly. "Rosie and Gilden. Us. And I'm not Rosie."
"Well, I'm not Rosie either!"
"We can't both be Gilden!"
The blond man scowled and turned away to walk down the path, calling over his shoulder "What else do you remember?"
"I remember I went to answer the door and knocked my head on the ceiling. I fell down in the foyer-"
"In the foyer?"
"Yeah, the foyer. Why?"
The blond man gestured irritably back at the small round door set into the hill with a lush garden spilling out around it. "It's not big enough to have a foyer!"
"Anything's big enough to have a foyer. It has a door. It has a space inside, which leads up to the door. Therefore, it has a foyer."
"You've got an over-developed sense of grandeur."
The dark-haired man huffed and rubbed his head.
"What do you remember about the person at the door?"
"What person at the door?"
"This morning, calling our names."
"Oh. Nothing. I never saw him."
"But you answered the door."
"No I didn't."
"You just said you did!"
"No I didn't, I said-"
The blond man gritted his teeth and lowered his voice dangerously. "You said. You went. To answer. The door."
"I did."
"Yet you didn't see anyone?"
"No. Because I knocked my head in the foyer."
"So how do you know there's a party!"
"There was a letter!" The dark-haired man beamed.
The blond's eyebrow twitched. "A letter."
"Yes, a letter. I was lying on my back in the foyer, thinking 'Ow', when a letter came through the letter box. It landed on my nose. It said; 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Invitation to a Party, Shire commons, Bilbo Baggins Eleventy-first birthday, and Frodo Baggins Thirty-Third. RSVP'"
"Let me see the letter."
The dark-haired man pulled a small folded paper with a broken wax seal out of a pocket and handed it to the blond man.
"It's an invitation to a party." said the blond.
"That it is."
"Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. Friends of ours."
"I should think."
"That wasn't a question."
"Sorry."
The blond man folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "They will know us, if we know them."
"I should think."
"That wasn't. A question."
The dark-haired man opened and closed his mouth before nodding.
"And conversely, if we know them, they'll know us."
"They'll know us."
"They'll be able to tell us our names."
"Which they will know because they know us."
"They'll be able to confirm, in no uncertain term, that you are Rosie."
"Yes. Wait, no. I think. What?"
"We must go to the party." The blond man nodded and strode off down the path.
The dark-haired one looked around the shire at the low buildings and short people. "Maybe they'll be able to tell us why we're so tall?"
For (half) the prompt:
Crossover (Lord of the Rings/Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead) Merry, Pippin, Rosencrantz, Guildenstern - fallen into the wrong story
(I'm kind of calling it "Tallfellows")
"For the last time, I'm not bloody 'Rosie', you are."
"What makes you so sure?"
The blond man sat in the smial with his knees up around his ears. "...I'm not. I don't feel like a 'Rosie'." He crossed his arms, knocking over a pot of tea.
"Ooo!" said the dark-haired man, grabbing at the fallen teapot and bonking his forehead on a support beam. "Augh!"
"This is ridiculous!" said the agitated blond man. "How do we ever even live here?"
The dark-haired man rubbed his forehead with a tea-soaked rag. "...amicably?"
"That's it." The blond man extricated himself from behind the tiny table. "I'm getting out."
"Where are you going?"
"Out!" He dodged the hanging candelabra. "Anywhere!"
"We can't go far; we're to go to a party. We were called."
"I know we were called. I was there when he called our names."
The dark-haired man squinted. "No you weren't!"
"Well, I was trying to be there. I got wedged behind the credenza trying to get to the door. I heard him call our names though. 'Rosie and Gilden'"
"That wasn't all."
"What else did he say?" asked the blond, stopping outside the round door.
The dark-haired man exited, and stopped, staring into the sunny distance. "I remember."
"What do you remember?"
"I remember the knocking. At the door. A tiny knocking, like a child, and a voice like a child's calling our names."
The blond stretched to his full height and glanced around the low hills and smials of the Shire, feeling entirely at home and not knowing quite why. Clusters of people under three feet tall waved at them; he waved back, smiling tightly. "Rosie and Gilden. Us. And I'm not Rosie."
"Well, I'm not Rosie either!"
"We can't both be Gilden!"
The blond man scowled and turned away to walk down the path, calling over his shoulder "What else do you remember?"
"I remember I went to answer the door and knocked my head on the ceiling. I fell down in the foyer-"
"In the foyer?"
"Yeah, the foyer. Why?"
The blond man gestured irritably back at the small round door set into the hill with a lush garden spilling out around it. "It's not big enough to have a foyer!"
"Anything's big enough to have a foyer. It has a door. It has a space inside, which leads up to the door. Therefore, it has a foyer."
"You've got an over-developed sense of grandeur."
The dark-haired man huffed and rubbed his head.
"What do you remember about the person at the door?"
"What person at the door?"
"This morning, calling our names."
"Oh. Nothing. I never saw him."
"But you answered the door."
"No I didn't."
"You just said you did!"
"No I didn't, I said-"
The blond man gritted his teeth and lowered his voice dangerously. "You said. You went. To answer. The door."
"I did."
"Yet you didn't see anyone?"
"No. Because I knocked my head in the foyer."
"So how do you know there's a party!"
"There was a letter!" The dark-haired man beamed.
The blond's eyebrow twitched. "A letter."
"Yes, a letter. I was lying on my back in the foyer, thinking 'Ow', when a letter came through the letter box. It landed on my nose. It said; 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, Invitation to a Party, Shire commons, Bilbo Baggins Eleventy-first birthday, and Frodo Baggins Thirty-Third. RSVP'"
"Let me see the letter."
The dark-haired man pulled a small folded paper with a broken wax seal out of a pocket and handed it to the blond man.
"It's an invitation to a party." said the blond.
"That it is."
"Frodo and Bilbo Baggins. Friends of ours."
"I should think."
"That wasn't a question."
"Sorry."
The blond man folded the letter and put it in his pocket. "They will know us, if we know them."
"I should think."
"That wasn't. A question."
The dark-haired man opened and closed his mouth before nodding.
"And conversely, if we know them, they'll know us."
"They'll know us."
"They'll be able to tell us our names."
"Which they will know because they know us."
"They'll be able to confirm, in no uncertain term, that you are Rosie."
"Yes. Wait, no. I think. What?"
"We must go to the party." The blond man nodded and strode off down the path.
The dark-haired one looked around the shire at the low buildings and short people. "Maybe they'll be able to tell us why we're so tall?"
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And it's not every day that I spend hours perfecting an interlude for a Children's Lit story that hardly anybody but me has read.
But could I stop myself? Nooooooooo...
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Aw, thanks! I'd forgotten how much I love Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and LOTR is something I needed to reconnect to on my own terms, so this was fun to write.